Once upon a time, there was a girl who wore the sea.

Not just that she was in it, or of it, but she wore it, wrapped around her, trailing at her ankles, rippling across her body, endless silk. There was even a little left over to make a shimmering ribbon that caught up her hair.

I am not that girl.

Whenever my mom told me that story, I could picture that girl perfectly. She was a princess. But tonight, tonight I am the girl who wore the rain. The girl with a sheet of rain glistening on her skin.

That sounds really stunning. But honestly, it’s not. It’s wet, and it’s cold; the wind is rushing past us, and I’m shivering as I press my face into the soaked back of his jacket and inhale wet leather.

We are not going to make it to the ocean tonight.

I think I’m glad. I might not be ready yet.

A beaming sign proclaims the impending appearance of a Motel 8. Over the din of the motorcycle I yell to him. “Please, can we stop?”

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wore the sea.

I am not that girl.